


Who Needs Wine?

by catvampcrazines



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AHH, Dinner Party, Established Relationship, F/M, Food Kink, Humor, Humor-Romance-Smut, I did miss writing you., Imagine all of the weres trying really hard not to listen to Peter and Lydia's conversation., My crack muse crashed this party along with my smut muse, Pydia, Romance, Sass, Second fic of my initial Pydia writing week, Smut, Stiles wondering why they're acting so strange--at least during the first dinner., Then it's him talking loudly and rapidly whenever an ear twitches, Warning: Involves a kink that uses sting & tingle of whisky., Well sort of. Drink Kink more like., You know what would be wicked? If you..., after about four years of going quiet., and Derek looks like he's about to run away., and of me officially getting back into regular writing, it hid in its purse and said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catvampcrazines/pseuds/catvampcrazines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Peter host a dinner party. Peter tries to help Lydia relax, even believes he’s behaving himself for the evening, until Lydia practically blindsides him. (Oh, oh no, poor BB. However did she get so worked up?)</p><p>Set seven-ish years into the future. This is probably one of the leading factors of why people feel awkward about coming over for their dinners. They can still tell, guys. *dreamy sigh*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Involves a kink that uses sting & tingle of whisky. ;) I *tried* to dial it down a little, but It definitely gets racy; however, yay, I somehow avoided ending on a completely pervy note. *eyeroll*
> 
> There’s a bit of switching POVs, but I tried to even things out by splitting this into two chapters. Ch 2 has the alternating, denoted by ~~~. (Lydia was not having it any other way. I tried. Peter and I are both happy with it now though. Rawr.)
> 
> Prompts (from charloedrama): dinner, wine, gentleman.

The door to the kitchen knocked open, Peter following his irritated fiancee and catching the door with his hand, letting it fall quietly back into place.

"Lydia, calm down."

"They couldn’t participate in the dress code?"

"This is Beacon Hills, babe. So there are jeans and a little plaid, it’s fine. 

"When did you become so zen, fashionisto?"

Peter put on his best mock-glare.

"I think we’re lucky they come to dinner so often. I also think I’m marrying a fiery banshee and I’m, on occasion, an asshole."

Lydia huffed and snagged Scotch and a glass from a cabinet. She set them on the island counter at the center of their kitchen, glancing at Peter, who stood along its side. She pressed her lips together, almost succeeding in stifling a smile. “You are not allowed to be understanding or cute or make me laugh. No one brought wine!”

"Well, that does seem to be the general consensus out there when it comes to viewing our rather interestingly developed relationship,” Peter remarked with sass, “and yes, I am allowed, as long as it makes you feel better and we absolutely avoid another food fight used to break the tension. As for the wine, they’ll just have to deal with what we have on hand… and smaller portions of dessert as retribution.” He tilted his head and smirked.

Lydia took a gulp of Scotch, staring at him in disbelief. “You’re evil.”

"There’ll be tears welling up in their once hopeful eyes," he crooned. He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she continued to face the counter. She sipped on the amber liquid they typically saved for the more relaxed or…spontaneously dramatic evenings between the two of them. Mostly, the liquid summoned passionate memories.

He’d often daydreamed about the time she’d mentioned her love of Scotch to him: details on how it burned its way down her throat and settled low in her stomach, branching out like fire, licking out to a variety of interesting—“At least we know that we look delicious,” he murmured in her ear, nuzzling hair that smelled of citrus and ginger conditioner that definitely made him NOT want to go back into the dining room. They both sighed. 

"You do look sharp in a black button-down and slacks, no offense to the rest of your wardrobe."

Peter snickered. “And I’ve been desperately wanting to peel this dress off since you came down to greet the guests.” He nipped at one completely bare shoulder, plucking at the strap of her heather gray dress on the other. He hummed against his favorite dusting of freckles, Lydia’s hand snapping up to halt the mischievous digits that had unhurriedly begun to slide her dress down. He conceded, securing the strap before reaching out for the bottle of whiskey instead. “Practically clairvoyant, hiding all of this away until the last moment.” He poured a couple of ounces into her glass before knocking it back.

Peter let his warmth soak into her, rocked them and bit at her ear gently, suckling the lobe there and letting her feel the tingle of alcohol on sensitive skin. He appreciated the soft hiss that broke into the air.

Oh, how he loved to help Lydia siphon frenetic energy; melt away her lingering stress and watch it shift into something else. The trip of taking her from angry to soothed to deviously horny was a heady one.

Currently, she ambled in the early stages of wicked, though tantalizingly willing to venture towards making him pay. 

"We just have to get through the next hour and a half. That’s all," she murmured, a hand flashing back to grab his ass, nails digging into tensing muscle in order to feel him jolt—which he did.

"We can do it. I believe in us,” he purred. He felt his own vindictive and aroused buzz at the knowledge of having the rest of dinner to tease her. 

He swept Lydia’s hair to the side and nipped at the base of her neck. ”Now that we’ve decided on the tiny—” Lydia made a noise that Peter was tempted to call a gigglesnort. “—penalty for their bit of disregard, let’s create a little game for us…to last until everyone else has left the house.” His teeth assuredly grazed down her spine, through thin material, until his breath hitched at the distinctive lack of any panty lines at her hips.

He straightened up, lightning-fast, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her even as he pressed against her length in some problematic attempt to assuage the harsh, compulsive, need hitting him. ”I’d say that takes away my first idea for the game,” he breathed, his vision going hazy. ”How about you pick something?”


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia turned her head to catch his gaze, forcing him to concentrate while she enjoyed the sight of him sweetly struggling for control. She narrowed her already calculating green eyes. "Such a gentleman," she said huskily.

"You should hurry or we aren't making it out of this kitchen." 

"Alright, alright." She twisted around to face him and gave him a loving peck on the lips, smiling at the anticipation and curiosity that held him from saying anything. "We'll start this very quickly and get out there--just remember, you're the one who introduced this game to whiskey."

She preened at his avid cursing and widened eyes as she quickly unbuckled his trousers and poured a dash of astringent and stimulating spirit into her glass.

"And they say that I'm--" she grabbed the back of his neck with the hand that wasn't busy applying a very unique form of painpleasureuhnnohfuckfuck **fuck**  and smothered the rest of his cliche with a greedy kiss.

Once satisfied with her work, she stepped back and winked, letting his zip hang open, basking in the shocked glare of a mussed up, gasping, Peter Hale.

"Retaliate however you like, but you can't leave the table once you sit down for at least thirty minutes."

**~~~**

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," he growled as watched her wash and dry her hands, fix her hair, check her dress; all items ticked on her mental checklist before she drew her hot but analytical eyes up and down the length of him a last time.

Lydia sauntered toward the door, leaving Peter to fix his clothing over flesh that wasn't going to calm down anytime soon unless he cheated.

"Aren't you worried about what'll happen when it's time to serve dessert?" He did his best to sound menacing instead of rattled and desperately turned on.

She paused to look back at him cheekily. "I'm anticipating it. Then,"--she eye-fucked him hard enough to enforce the intention of what she wanted out of him--"I'll get to wait for thirty minutes."

**~~~**

Lydia finally left for the dining room and Peter took a few moments to carefully compose his clothing and himself.

He snagged a bottle of chilled chardonnay, combed his fingers through his hair, and strode to his seat at the table. He cautiously sat in his seat, smiling blissfully at the fiance sitting across from him.

He'd make sure to still mind the comfort of their guests, but if  ** _Lydia_**  made them feel awkward in, say, half an hour--well... 

...

Peter went from confident to distracted halfway through the allotted time. He hadn't realized he'd been shifting in his seat, zoned-out as the others continued conversations, until he felt a bare foot trail up his calf and rub at his knee cap.

Lydia raised a challenging brow subtly and shrugged; his head thrummed with the pounding of his heart.

Only a few more minutes of waiting, then they'd be back in that kitchen. Lydia's lovely dress would be in disarray while she trembled on his fingertips,  _around_  them, tightening at the same fiery sensations he'd gone through until she spilled all over his hand.  _With a little extra friction, maybe she'd come twice._

He bent his fork; Lydia laughed softly as he hid it underneath a nearby napkin.

Suddenly, Lydia's foot faltered and disappeared. A peculiar wiggle and a beat later and she stood. 

"I'm going to go get dessert ready. You guys keep talking." She smiled at everyone and hurried away.

Peter remembered to stare intensely at what was left of his food instead of at Lydia's back as she retreated, a villainous smirk cracking as he patiently followed her one rule enough to leave her time to sort out comedically sample-sized portions of tiramisu.

 

[♥♥♥](http://catvampcrazines.tumblr.com/tagged/myteenwolf)


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